claire, hurley
claire, hurley
PG
appx 750 words
something light to start the new week
Claire rocked the baby slowly in his makeshift crib, hoping he would one day get used to the noisy, chaotic island he was living on. As of yet, though, he had insisted upon total silence in order to sleep, and typically an afternoon on the beach could go from quiet to not at all quiet at any moment. Claire tried not to mind too much. Sometimes babies were just impossible to get to sleep. Besides, in the early days, the noise would have invariably been a fight or something even worse. Now that they'd survived so many horrible things together, they were prone to getting along. A noisy beach now was usually a portent of nothing more serious than Kate chasing Sawyer, trying to get back whatever it was that he'd playfully stolen from her-a book, her lunch, her underwear-or Rose hollering at Bernard to come get under the shade for goodness sakes.
Today, it was golf. Claire didn't see any sense in playing golf so close to a large body of water that would gladly gobble up their makeshift balls-it was by no stretch of the imagination the world's worst water hazard-but they liked to use the expanse of the beach as a driving range, because they could see for a few hundred yards and pretty reliably mark the length of each drive.
Apparently, Hurley was the best golfer among them; or so it seemed, given that he was the most likely to be doing a victory dance, which involved a lot of jumping, some hip-shaking action, occasional karate chops, and a little howling at the sky. That was all fine and good, except he spent the whole afternoon winning. By the time he was doing noisy victory dance number six, the fourth in a row that made Aaron stir but not quite come fully, loudly awake, Claire found herself just a little bit irritated. She didn't want everyone to mope around and be scared and unhappy all the time, but couldn't they just please keep their revelry a little more sedate in the afternoon...or take it where there wasn't a sleeping baby?
She realized she was standing with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, because halfway through his victory celebration, Hurley turned and looked toward her and suddenly stopped dead. Claire tried to smile, not look so disapproving, then she pointed to the baby. Hurley just smiled as if he understood, and he set up the next shot quietly.
Claire frowned. She didn't want to be the camp downer. They'd all had their share of tragedy here on the island, so she was glad they had these moments that took them out of it all. She thought that if they ever got to go home, she would be happy to look back and think about these afternoons with the boys playing golf: Jack and Paulo never quite beating Hurley; Charlie and Sawyer making an unlikely but effective commentary team, marrying bad jokes and sarcasm; Bernard, meanwhile, studying their swings; and Sayid watching the whole play with stoic amusement as he waited on Desmond at the tee.
Claire was feeling like a party pooper, a cranky, self-absorbed mother, and she found her eyes drifting from the game to the horizon as her thoughts drifted from the here and now to all her worries. Then, a few moments later, she heard the unmistakable groan that meant Hurley had kicked their asses again. Her attention snapped back to the huddle of men a little way down the beach.
Despite the initial noise, Hurley wasn't launching into his victory routine. He stood there quietly for a moment, as if in contemplation. Then he grinned-she could see his grin from all these yards away-and he began his dance, just like always...without making a sound.
By the time Charlie and Desmond had joined in, looking like drunk monkeys doing some sort of square dance, and Sawyer began a mocking rendition of his own, Claire was in danger of being the one disrupting Aaron's sleep. She kept a hand over her mouth and let the tears stream over her face, but by the time Jack bent over with laughter and Bernard joined the dancing monkeys, she couldn't keep quiet.
Her open giggling was what finally broke up Sayid, and it was only then that the whole group of them dissolved into audible giggles, half of them dropping on the ground where they stood. As Kate came out of her tent and looked first down the beach then over at Claire, she put her hand over her mouth again, and glanced down at the baby. He sound asleep.
PG
appx 750 words
something light to start the new week
Claire rocked the baby slowly in his makeshift crib, hoping he would one day get used to the noisy, chaotic island he was living on. As of yet, though, he had insisted upon total silence in order to sleep, and typically an afternoon on the beach could go from quiet to not at all quiet at any moment. Claire tried not to mind too much. Sometimes babies were just impossible to get to sleep. Besides, in the early days, the noise would have invariably been a fight or something even worse. Now that they'd survived so many horrible things together, they were prone to getting along. A noisy beach now was usually a portent of nothing more serious than Kate chasing Sawyer, trying to get back whatever it was that he'd playfully stolen from her-a book, her lunch, her underwear-or Rose hollering at Bernard to come get under the shade for goodness sakes.
Today, it was golf. Claire didn't see any sense in playing golf so close to a large body of water that would gladly gobble up their makeshift balls-it was by no stretch of the imagination the world's worst water hazard-but they liked to use the expanse of the beach as a driving range, because they could see for a few hundred yards and pretty reliably mark the length of each drive.
Apparently, Hurley was the best golfer among them; or so it seemed, given that he was the most likely to be doing a victory dance, which involved a lot of jumping, some hip-shaking action, occasional karate chops, and a little howling at the sky. That was all fine and good, except he spent the whole afternoon winning. By the time he was doing noisy victory dance number six, the fourth in a row that made Aaron stir but not quite come fully, loudly awake, Claire found herself just a little bit irritated. She didn't want everyone to mope around and be scared and unhappy all the time, but couldn't they just please keep their revelry a little more sedate in the afternoon...or take it where there wasn't a sleeping baby?
She realized she was standing with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, because halfway through his victory celebration, Hurley turned and looked toward her and suddenly stopped dead. Claire tried to smile, not look so disapproving, then she pointed to the baby. Hurley just smiled as if he understood, and he set up the next shot quietly.
Claire frowned. She didn't want to be the camp downer. They'd all had their share of tragedy here on the island, so she was glad they had these moments that took them out of it all. She thought that if they ever got to go home, she would be happy to look back and think about these afternoons with the boys playing golf: Jack and Paulo never quite beating Hurley; Charlie and Sawyer making an unlikely but effective commentary team, marrying bad jokes and sarcasm; Bernard, meanwhile, studying their swings; and Sayid watching the whole play with stoic amusement as he waited on Desmond at the tee.
Claire was feeling like a party pooper, a cranky, self-absorbed mother, and she found her eyes drifting from the game to the horizon as her thoughts drifted from the here and now to all her worries. Then, a few moments later, she heard the unmistakable groan that meant Hurley had kicked their asses again. Her attention snapped back to the huddle of men a little way down the beach.
Despite the initial noise, Hurley wasn't launching into his victory routine. He stood there quietly for a moment, as if in contemplation. Then he grinned-she could see his grin from all these yards away-and he began his dance, just like always...without making a sound.
By the time Charlie and Desmond had joined in, looking like drunk monkeys doing some sort of square dance, and Sawyer began a mocking rendition of his own, Claire was in danger of being the one disrupting Aaron's sleep. She kept a hand over her mouth and let the tears stream over her face, but by the time Jack bent over with laughter and Bernard joined the dancing monkeys, she couldn't keep quiet.
Her open giggling was what finally broke up Sayid, and it was only then that the whole group of them dissolved into audible giggles, half of them dropping on the ground where they stood. As Kate came out of her tent and looked first down the beach then over at Claire, she put her hand over her mouth again, and glanced down at the baby. He sound asleep.